The Joke's on You
by NastElilBuggr
Summary: Shelby Corcoran does not stand for any funny business, so when her students prank the one person in the world she cares about, she does not sit idly. Set during Funk.
1. Chapter 1

**Good (insert part day you're experiencing) everyone! Here's my attempt at a Funk fic. It was just going to be a one-shot but I decided to break it up into three parts instead when I noticed how long it was getting. It goes along with my other two fics (This Hell I'm Living and So Different Now from What It Seemed) but you might have noticed the title doesn't match up with the others; that's because this is a midquel of sorts and the real conclusion to Shelby's story has yet to be written. Until then, please enjoy this and let me know what you think!**

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It was proving to be one hell of a week.

Despite that, Shelby Corcoran had been looking forward to this particular afternoon. Since she had let some of her seniors convince her to cancel practice so they could go to a concert in Columbus, she had been anticipating taking some time for herself. She had left Carmel a few minutes before and was almost home; she was planning to change into some jeans and a comfortable top, throw her hair up in a scrunchie, and drive over to the other side of town where her favorite music store was. Milano's Music had been there since she was a child, and not only did it sell some of the nicest instruments in town, it had one of the largest and best selections of sheet music in Lima. She had been frequenting the store for so many years that the owner knew her by name, and for once, it wasn't because she was an award-winning show-choir coach. There, she was just Shelby: music enthusiast. An escape there was just the break she needed.

Part of her knew better than to let her kids off the hook so close to Regionals, but they had been working hard the last couple weeks in preparation for the big competition and she felt they needed some time to have fun. She was even more hesitant after that stunt they pulled the week before in McKinley's choir room, but after their tires got slashed she felt as though they got their retribution. In the end, however, it was Shelby who had to deal with McKinley and its students for their crime, arrange for new tires for her squad, and placate her own students who were in various degrees of hysterics because of the state of their transportation. Add that to her irritation about Vocal Adrenaline's own juvenile prank plus the regular stress she felt in making sure her glee club was worthy of their three previous national titles and she was ready for an afternoon off.

As she pulled into her driveway, she sighed in annoyance when saw her neighbor out front spraying weed-killer around his yard. The peaceful afternoon she had in mind did not include Philip Norlington. As she climbed out of her car, she estimated what the likelihood would be that she could make it in her house and back out again without him noticing her.

"Good afternoon Neighbor!"

She cringed and sighed. She hadn't even closed the door to her SUV yet. She straightened up and waved to him over the hood of her car, plastering a pleasant smile on her face just like she always did.

"Hey Phil."

The Norlingtons strived to be the textbook suburban family, but having grown up in a household in which perfection was perfected, Shelby didn't view them as highly as they viewed themselves. They had been her neighbors for almost a decade, ever since she moved onto the street from the apartment she had rented after coming back from New York, and Phil and his wife had always been friendly. Too friendly. Shelby had worked on Broadway for years and she could spot an act from the real thing a mile away and because of that, she knew better than to assume that they wouldn't turn around and talk about her behind her back. But Shelby stopped caring about that sort of stuff years ago. She was too busy with other things to be bothered about what her neighbors talked about or how they acted.

She locked her car and made her way up to her house. It was late April and the weather had just begun to turn hot in the afternoon hours; the sun was beating down on her black pantsuit and her dark brunette hair, making her uncomfortably warm. She looked forward to the air conditioning that lay just beyond her front door as she fiddled with her keys, trying to find the one she would need to enter her home. Just as she located the right key, a body clad in a patterned polo shirt and khaki shorts stepped in her way.

"You're home early!" Phil said to her, and it was with slight impatience that she turned her gaze up to the unnecessarily large mustache over white, imperfect teeth at her eye level. "Usually we don't see you before nightfall!"

"Yep, I lucked out today." She didn't feel lucky as she tried to figure out a way around him, because he clearly wasn't going to move on his own.

"I'm actually glad to see you. Been meaning to have a chat."

"Right now?"

"There's no time like the present!"

Shelby barely hid her sigh and she crossed her arms in front of her, preparing herself for whatever he wanted to complain about. Was it her neglected bushes? The gardener only came by twice a month but they would get trimmed next week. Did he want to complain _again_ that when she had put out her trash that morning that it had touched his property line? Just two weeks before he claimed that her cats had been leaving presents all over his lawn, but she's never had a cat in her life. (At the time she hadn't been sure if she ought to have taken offense at his assumption that she must have a bunch of felines running around her house; just because she lived alone didn't make her some sort of cat collector.) She eyed the bottle of plant-killer in his hand and pondered that perhaps she had some sort of mutant weed running rampant in his daisies, causing complete mayhem that would be the end of the world as they knew it if she didn't get down on her hands and knees and pull them up herself at this exact moment.

Maybe she was overreacting. He probably received some of her mail and had set it aside for her or something equally mundane.

"What's going on, Phil?" she asked calmly.

"Well, Shelby, the water from your sprinklers is coming onto my yard and making some of my grass grow faster than the rest. It's becoming quite a problem."

She openly gaped at him. He seemed completely serious so she wondered if maybe she misunderstood. "My sprinklers are…making your grass grow?"

"Unevenly, yes."

Her afternoon of relaxation was apparently being delayed by the most ridiculous thing she could have never have thought up. She tucked some of her sun-baked hair behind her ear and thought about how she could possibly respond without becoming Enemy No. 1 on Syosset Street, but in the end she simply had no patience for stupid people. She couldn't even fake concern when she dryly asked what she knew was obvious, "Can't you just mow the lawn? Won't that—" She waved her hand parallel to the ground dramatically, her bracelets clinking together as she did so. "—even it out?"

"Well yes," Phil sighed exaggeratedly, appearing distressed. "But I already pay my son to mow the lawn once a week. We're in a recession here! I can't—"

A muffled ringing interrupted him and they both looked down at Shelby's leather case she still had gripped in one hand. She uncrossed her arms and stuck a hand into it, more excited to answer a phone call than usual, and pulled out her ringing phone with a slight frown at the unknown number.

"I'm sure you won't mind if I see who this is," she said, and before Phil could object, she connected the call and answered curtly, "Shelby Corcoran."

"_Hey Shelby, it's Will— Will Schuester." _

"Will. Hi."

She wasn't sure why he was calling. She had thought that everything was pretty well settled between their clubs following the tire-slashing incident, but perhaps the boys hadn't found jobs yet. Or maybe they had figured out that it would be impossible to pay off over 20 grand in only a month, which she had already calculated and adjusted her Glee budget to accommodate. Whatever it was, as long as those boys promised to work it off and Schuester supervised their efforts, she trusted it would be taken care of.

But perhaps this call didn't have to do with Glee. When they had seen each other the few days before, it had been brief and as soon as she walked out of the administration office at McKinley she left for Carmel. Not only did she not possess the time to stay on the other side of town all afternoon to chat, she had no desire to talk to Will yet following the meeting that took place in his office regarding Rachel. She wasn't used to not having the power in a situation, and the moment his judgments became about her personal life – a rocky bay she avoided drifting into – she had lost her bearing and consequently, her control. In McKinley's principal's office, she acted completely professional, as if she had never experienced emotional turmoil in front of him or anyone for that matter, but she could tell he didn't buy it. But in the grand scheme of things, what he thought meant very little.

Nonetheless, she did want to know what he needed, so she asked, "Is everything okay, Will?"

"_Ah…no. Not really. And I'm not really sure how to tell you this because it affects you both as a coach as well as…uh…"_

"What's going on?" Shelby was starting to become worried, and it didn't help that Phil was glaring at her with narrowed eyes. She held up a finger and stepped away from her ornery neighbor, her heart pounding as a hundred new scenarios popped into her head that Will could possibly have called to tell her. She just hoped that none of them had to do with a certain someone she and Will both knew and cared about.

"_Look, first let me tell you this isn't an attack on you. I called you not just because you're their coach but because I'm your friend. But some of your students came by our campus today. And it wasn't to try and make up for earlier problems." _He paused, probably to be fair and give her a chance to rebut the implication that her students ought to apologize for their antics, but she had no interest in debating such a thing. She was becoming on edge in suspense, however, and it was with bated breath she waited for him to continue. _"A group of about eight or nine of your Vocal Adrenaline kids…" _She heard him sigh, evidently frustrated and reluctant about what he was about to tell her. _"…egged…one of my students in our parking lot this afternoon."_

It took only a second for quite a few things to click in place in Shelby's sharp mind. Her Glee kids had convinced her to cancel practice, which she did last minute to allow them some time off. Some of her seniors even persuaded her to let them leave early so they could make their concert in Columbus; she didn't even ask who was performing at the show, and she vaguely wondered if they would have been able to answer her. And the fact that Will refused to explain how his call was more than just a work-related matter was particularly significant.

"Who was it?"

She was afraid that she knew the answer. She was afraid that she was to blame. She was afraid that she had lost any right to be concerned weeks before and now couldn't do anything to fix this.

"_Shelby, I don't think—"_

"Will! Who was it? Which student?" She was yelling at this point, much to her surprise as well as Phil's, who was watching impatiently with raised eyebrows. She scowled at him and walked down her driveway so she was out of his earshot, but she was too mentally overwhelmed to completely control her building anger, especially when Will hesitated again. "Was it Rachel?"

"_Shelby…"_ he sighed but didn't say anything. He didn't need to; his tone answered her question.

Images filled her mind of Rachel, her beautiful face anguished and her body covered with the remnants of a malicious practical joke. Her Vocal Adrenaline kids pointing and laughing as she stood humiliated in front of them all. Their faces as they sweetly acquired her permission for them to leave and attack her only child.

She felt like she was imploding: her insides were disintegrating and her outside was nothing more than a crumbling structure that could fall with the slightest movement.

"Where is she? Is she still with you?"

"_Her dads came to pick her up almost an hour ago. She was really upset, Shelby. Apparently Jesse was there."_

"_What_? I'll kill him. I'll fucking_ kill_ him!"

"_Shelby…"_ he said again in that cautious way that in her current ire only inflamed her emotions. _"Maybe I shouldn't have told you this because of your relationship with her. But you're their coach and you needed to know. Don't worry about Rachel, she's a tough kid. She'll be fine."_

Will's voice, an echo from weeks before, filled her mind, contradicting the lie he had just told her: _"She's not hard like you. She's fragile, overemotional."_ Then a horrible thought occurred to her, leaving her completely speechless— Rachel was vegan, and the eggs she was pelted with went against the sensitive lifestyle she chose to live. Shelby could hardly think of a worse thing to do to vegans short of killing an animal right in front of them. She couldn't say anything as she steadied her breathing, and after nearly a minute Will called out her name to make sure the line didn't disconnect.

"Thank you for calling me," she replied, her voice colder and more composed than she felt inside. "I'll take care of it." With that, she hung up the phone and stared at the picture of the night sky she kept as her home screen, her mind as far away as the stars as she thought about Rachel. She had no idea what to do.

"Excuse me!" she heard someone say in an annoyed voice, and as she turned to look at the speaker she was a little dazed to see Phil still standing there, the hand not holding the weed spray on his hip irritably while the other pointed at the property line. "What are you going to do about this?"

"Uh," Shelby muttered and brought her fingers to her forehead as she tried to comprehend the situation once more. "I'll deal with later when I have time."

"You obviously have time now," he retorted, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge her.

She shook her head. "No, I have to go, my kids—"

"'Kids'? Ha! You have no idea what it's like to have real kids."

There were some ways that Shelby would never lose control, but if someone pushed her too far then the inhibition that held back her darkest, most ruthless thoughts would disappear and that foolhardy person would be at her mercy. It was with shame that she would look back on that moment with Phil and realized that she had indeed snapped.

"You know what, Phil? I don't give a damn about your grass. If you're concerned about paying Kyle, why don't you just mow it yourself? It would probably be for the best considering he's spending his money on cigarettes anyway. He's dropping the butts down into my yard and quite frankly I'm sick of it."

"Kyle... h-he doesn't smoke."

"Wanna bet?" Shelby asked insensitively. "And your daughter constantly sneaks out of her bedroom window late at night, and once or twice she's brought someone back with her. So do me a favor and get off your high horse because you clearly have no influence over them. Ever since I moved here, you've been pointing out how I don't have any kids and I'm done listening to you. Fuck you_."_

She was breathing heavy and her nostrils were flaring with rage even as she turned and walked away, leaving Phil frozen in place from shock. Right as she opened the door to her car he had apparently gathered his wits enough to ask shakily, "W-where are you going?"

"To see my daughter," she answered bitterly. "Have a good afternoon, Phil."


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, I've been incredibly surprised and thrilled with the responses the first chapter got! I'm pretty sure there was at least one point I squealed and did a happy dance at seeing my inbox filled with reviews, though as far as you know that may not be true. I plead the fifth. Anyway, enjoy :)**

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Her temper kept her mind clear as she flew through afternoon traffic, weaving between cars and accelerating through yellow lights recklessly. It wasn't long until she was parked across the street from the Berrys house but the moment she looked at the residence she deflated like a balloon, her anger replaced by a decade's worth of fear and misery. She hit her steering wheel with the side of her fist lightly, exhaling in aggravation as she questioned herself. She shouldn't be here.

But she needed to know Rachel was okay. Shelby climbed out of the car and crossed the road, but she froze in place when she looked up at Rachel's curtained bedroom window. She buried her head in her hands, unable to clear the upheaval in her mind. She was being fueled by the emotions she usually kept in check and because of that she had no idea of what to say. It wasn't long before she had turned around and walked back towards her vehicle, trying to talk herself into leaving, a pitiless voice in her head reminding her that she didn't belong there. But when her hand grasped the door handle on the car door, her mind's eye brought up that image of Rachel with her face full of misery and her beautiful hair thick with slime and eggshells and she couldn't bring herself to run away.

She drew her hand away from the handle and placed it next to her reflection in the car window with a sigh. Shelby wasn't a victim anymore when it came to her daughter. She had made the conscious choice a couple weeks before to walk away from her and stay out of her life. But before she had made that decision, something happened to her that was the reason she was acting so imprudently now: she had come to love her daughter more than she ever thought possible and certainly more than was beneficial.

The problem that had been there all along was that her daughter didn't need her. And in their last conversation, it was established that Rachel didn't even feel the desire to be comforted by her mother. Shelby closed her eyes in painful remembrance of that heartbreaking moment. Even if Rachel didn't need her or want her to be there that afternoon, particularly because the pranksters who had targeted her that afternoon were teenagers that she was responsible for, Shelby had to know if her daughter was fine. And she knew if she climbed in that car without finding out she would regret it.

It wasn't long before her high heels were clacking against the hardwood porch in front of the Berrys' home. But just because she had worked up the determination to cross the street and walk up to the front door didn't mean she was ready to knock on it and face the Berrys. She stared at it for a while, her mind retreating back to the hazy, drunken memory of the last time she stood in this spot, and each time she brought up a balled fist to knock on the wood she hesitated for a moment too long and went limp with self-doubt and insecurity.

Eventually she moved her moping to the bench next to the entrance and slumped forward with her elbows on her knees and her hands tangled in her long hair. She wasn't having an easy time accepting that she was losing her mind. For years, she had been all too aware that she was unusually sane, and it was with mixed feelings that she would contemplate the academic studies that showed that depressed people, instead of being more disillusioned about the world than their emotionally healthy counterparts, saw reality for what it actually was (which, of course, was a depressing thought). But during that incalculable amount of time she was huddled on that bench, in addition to her normal feelings of hopelessness she felt unraveled and unbalanced. It certainly wasn't an enjoyable combination.

From her stiff seat facing Tenafly Road, she considered herself stuck in limbo— she couldn't go inside the two-story home behind her and she wouldn't leave. Both alternatives seemed like hell. She had made a promise to herself after she had left Rachel that she wouldn't bother the girl anymore and cause her any more stress, and at the time it seemed like a generous solution. She would let her fathers take care of her as they always had and she would take care of herself, a desperately necessary project. She smiled wryly and self-admonishingly to herself, knowing that she had barely accomplished anything in the home front and she clearly hadn't succeeded in leaving Rachel alone. Maybe one day she would find her recurrent failures laughable, but until then the only thing she wanted to laugh at (and not happily) was how inept she was at being both a good mother as well as a bad one.

Shelby was startled when the front door nearby opened, interrupting her chastising thoughts. Looking up, she saw Ephraim Berry – a man that was below average height for a man but was above most in personality and generosity – approaching her, his glasses perched on his classically Jewish nose and his collared shirt buttoned all the way to the top. Some things never change, Shelby thought, sliding over on the bench to allow him to join her on it.

"I've been watching you through the window, wondering if you were ever going to ring the doorbell," he said, his dark eyes peering keenly at her while she slouched, humiliated. "How long were you planning on sitting out here?"

"It depends," Shelby muttered, her focus on her expensive shoes rather than his watchful face. "Do you think sleeping on this bench would give me back problems?"

It was because she was feeling so miserable that she was surprised when he laughed. He patted her knee and said, "Oh Shelby, you always were a funny girl."

"It's good to see you again, Ephraim." And it was. Despite all of the dread she kept regarding Rachel's fathers, it was nothing personal. Ephraim and Thomas Berry were gentle, jovial people and she had no reason to hate them as individuals. She just hated the predicament that she and they were involved in together. During the year they spent together, she and Ephraim had a good relationship, and their mutual heritage and affection for musical theatre always provided endless talking points. Even years later, despite his receding hairline and his worsening sense of style, she still thought he was adorable in that nerdy way. "You look good."

"Look who's talking," he said with a grin, and one of his thick eyebrows went up as he scanned her work attire from head to toe. "I remember when you used to wear ripped jeans and t-shirts all of the time."

And she remembered when they were comfortable enough around each other that they would tease about the silliest things, such as how Ephraim's name meant "fruitful" in Hebrew and how ironic it was that he was so fruity, or how Shelby would never make it in New York until she conquered her fear of mice and roaches. She thought it was strange the things that came back to her as she sat there with a man who had once been her friend, like all of the good memories she had long forgotten about. But it had been 16 years since she last sat with this man because of the contract he had asked her to sign, and because of that, those memories were meaningless now.

"You were so mad when you realized that the baby bump had stretched out your favorite U2 shirt, do you remember?" Ephraim continued good-humoredly, but she had no desire to share his amusement, particularly at the mention of the inflated womb she no longer had and the child that once had been within it she shouldn't love. His smile dropped and the pretense of familiarity fell with it. It wasn't long before his brown eyes focused on hers and he absorbed her somber mood. Shaking his head slightly, he said with mild disbelief, "I can't believe I had forgotten how alike you two are."

"Is she okay?" Shelby asked quietly, feeling sad at the mention of Rachel despite the compliment.

He made a noncommittal noise. "She's a little shaken up, but it'll take more than a few eggs to bring our Rachel down."

Shelby wasn't sure who Ephraim was referring to when he said "our Rachel," but she chose not to dwell on it. "You have to believe me when I say I had no idea what those kids were planning," she told him with earnest.

He scoffed and waved off her comment with his hand the way that gay men do. "Oh, I know that."

"You do?"

"Of course. You wouldn't be here otherwise."

She sensed that his remark held a double meaning. She stiffened indignantly and said to him in a slightly impatient tone, "Look, I know I shouldn't have come by, but I don't want her to think that what those stupid kids did had anything to do with us. She's done nothing wrong to deserve any of this; I'm the one with the problems." She realized she had said probably said too much to him and took a deep breath. "I just want to talk to her."

"She's sleeping," Ephraim said simply. Shelby's brows drew together with suspicion as her hazel gaze examined his inexpressive features. The last 16 lonely years of her life had been proof that he and his partner didn't want Shelby to have contact with their daughter and she wasn't foolish enough to believe that had changed simply because she was now acquainted with Rachel. As if sensing her doubt he explained, "After she came home she took a shower, drank out of that cup you gave her as she talked to us for a few minutes, and went to her room for a nap."

Shelby slumped back in her chair, her mind fixed on what Ephraim told her about the cup. Rachel had chosen to use it, and while that wasn't enough to make her feel totally better about this lousy circumstance, it did ease her aching heart to know that Rachel had taken comfort from Shelby (well, the cup) rather than blame her.

"I won't let you wake her up but I can tell her that you dropped by," Ephraim told her by way of compromise, and she took some satisfaction in seeing that he wasn't completely enthusiastic with his suggestion.

"No," she told him, getting to her feet and straightening out her jacket. "You don't need to do that." She didn't say that for his sake or her own, but for Rachel's. She didn't need to complicate things any more by giving the impression that she intended on appearing to comfort her whenever Rachel was distressed. That would fall into the category of "confusing" that Shelby was apprehensive about. She raised her head high as she peered down at him. "Just make sure she understands that I would never hurt her. Not on purpose anyway."

"I'm sure she knows that but I promise to tell her anyway."

As Ephraim rocked to his feet, Shelby glanced across the street as a young couple played with their toddling baby in their front yard. They sat a few feet away from one another on the grass and the little girl with bright blond hair and a cute pink dress teetered between them, giggling loud enough for Shelby to hear her where she stood. The parents had these huge, annoying-ass smiles stretched across their faces as they cooed encouragingly at their child, and it made Shelby want to go over there and yell at them for flaunting their happiness. Or sit down with them and share in it; she couldn't decide.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Ephraim watching her closely. She felt self-conscious but she let his scrutiny bounce off of her as best she could. She made a move to walk away but he reached out for her hand and pulled her near him. She sighed as she looked at him and was a bit frustrated when she saw the sympathy in his eyes. It felt more like pity, which she didn't like.

"I know that things in your life didn't end up exactly like you planned them Shelby, but are you happy?"

Her jaw tightened in displeasure. Part of her wanted to be truthful, to unleash all of the negative feelings she held inside on him and blame him for how things had turned out. But he wasn't responsible for her well-being; only she was. She evaded his question and asked him, "Are you, Ephraim? Is Tom? Is Rachel?"

"Yes," he said, clearly a bit confused at her deflection.

"Then that's all I can ask for." She went to leave again but he drew her back, and she was stunned when she ended up enveloped in Ephraim's arms. She remained tense and one of her hands went up to pat his back uncomfortably.

"Oh Shelby, you've been so good to us," Ephraim said meaningfully, and despite herself she felt the emotions she had been carefully controlling begin to stir within her. She had always felt her sacrifices were disregarded, and hearing him acknowledge them knocked her feet from under her. Her breathing became uneven as he continued to hold her tightly to him, and after a few beats she softened against his warm body, accepting the comfort he offered. She hadn't realized how much she needed this, the feeling of being cared about and the unpretentious physical gestures that went with it. She let her head fall on his shoulder and she thought about all of those sacrifices she had made, from giving up her body for the Berrys to giving up her baby— first 16 years before then again so recently. She thought about how she had tried to stay away from their family throughout the years. She thought about how she tried to find contentment despite her loneliness. And she thought about how she had failed so miserably. His shirt became clenched in her fists as she gripped him tighter, and she was embarrassed when her eyes watered into his collar and when she sniffled.

"Oh baby, are you crying?"

"No," she lied, pulling away from him and wiping under her eyes with a finger. He put on a kind smile and grasped her shoulder comfortingly, and she halfheartedly rolled her eyes. Since she had already shown how pathetic she was it didn't seem so important to hide the reason, so she said thickly, "I never usually cry, but the last couple of weeks have been a little rough for me."

Ephraim squeezed her shoulder as he said significantly, "Don't you think for a minute that Thomas and I don't appreciate what you did for us. We know it couldn't have been easy letting go of her again."

She wrapped her arms around herself self-consciously and she shook her head ever so slightly. "I'll be okay," she told him weakly. She knew she probably wasn't very convincing.

"I think I know what the problem is," Ephraim said, and his lighter tone made her glance up at him. His mouth was quirked up goofily and she frowned, distrustful of whatever idea he had. "You've just got too much love inside you. Why don't you rescue one of those poor kitties at the pound?"

God, what was it with these people? She really _wasn't_ a cat person. She glared at him and he held up his hands defensively with that lighthearted grin still on his face.

"Will you do me a favor, Shelby baby?"

"What do you want?" she asked dryly, unwilling to commit yet.

"You're these kids' coach, right? When you see them next, will you give them the ol' metaphorical Berry one-two punch?" Ephraim asked, waving his fists in front of him in a fashion that probably wouldn't scare an old lady.

"I'll do you one better," she told him seriously, pushing his hands back down to his sides and meeting his eyes pointedly. "I'll give them the Shelby Corcoran 'one-two.' Trust me, they'll never want to go near your daughter again."

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**Someone else finally noticed that Shelby needed a good hug besides us. And since I gave Shelby a hug, I think I should get hugs too. In review form, pretty please.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow, I've just been in awe of the response this story has gotten! I've thanked nearly all of you individually but I'd like to say it again: Thank you so much for your kind comments! Apparently, frantically begging for reviews really does work wonders. I'd do it once more but I hope that this very long chapter will do the work for me. I hope it's satisfactory! Enjoy.**

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It was very dark in Carmel's auditorium. And cold. But Shelby Corcoran wanted it that way.

She had been pacing the stage for a while, waiting for her students to arrive. The moment Shelby walked away from the Berry's home, she had her Blackberry in her hands and was composing a mass text message to all 26 members of Carmel's glee club. It was simple and she believed it would be effective: _There will be a mandatory meeting in the auditorium at 8 oclock tonight. Anyone who does not show will forfeit their spot on Vocal Adrenaline. No excuses. _She knew they would have a couple of hours to change their dinner plans or get their homework done. She wasn't concerned about anyone not showing up.

As soon as the first students walked through the auditorium entrance, she barked at them to get on the stage and demanded they sit on the cold wood. As more of the Vocal Adrenaline kids filtered in they followed their friends' examples and it wasn't long until the group had grown to include nearly everyone; none seemed confident enough to speak above a murmur and even then those were few and far between. Shelby didn't say anything to them, even when the 26th member straggled in late, but moved her eyes between all of the seated teenagers and slowly paced before them. She let them soak in the silence for close to five minutes. She wanted them to wonder what was in store.

Presentation was everything. Acting intimidating alone hardly ever accomplished the job. Her view on the matter was that it needed to be as subliminal and unexplainable as it was obviously threatening. If the scientific studies done on the subject were any verification on the matter, her black pantsuit relayed impressions of sophistication, dominance and authority, all necessary in creating the air of superiority she needed over these punk kids. She had arrived early enough to angle some of the stage lights to envelop her in a muted glow that she knew could create subconscious feelings of suspense and power to what she already possessed. The frigid air she had pumping out of the many industrial air-conditioning units would leave the students discomforted and on-edge. She was at an advantage in this auditorium as well, and on this stage: here, she was the boss and no one could challenge that. And with the students seated at her feet, they could see how much they didn't know about whom Shelby Corcoran actually was or what she was capable of— that Coach Corcoran was simply a persona, and a rather restrained one at that.

She kept them waiting for minutes but she had managed to decipher all of their faces and body language in barely any time at all. Theater kids were so easy to read; despite their ability to contort the appearance of emotion, they were highly expressive by nature. That meant that the 17 students who were not involved with the egging were visibly baffled and unnerved, were clustered more closely to their friends, and most plainly, most of them had dressed in their blue Vocal Adrenaline costumes because they had been unsure of what the last-minute meeting was about. The nine others on the other hand appeared quite expressionless and even bored in street clothes. Shelby was insulted by their substandard acting, and though they clearly arrived without the fear of God in them, they would leave with the fear of Coach Corcoran.

It was difficult to know who among the people in front of her had attacked her daughter but wait to do anything with that knowledge, but she used it as an exercise of self-discipline. Part of the reason Shelby had such influence was because she was always so consistently in control, so contained, but part of her was tired of that. Despite that, she continued her deliberate movements, her sharp eyes and her acute hearing scanning the group as they fidgeted on the uncomfortable floor and began to whisper in each others' ears, trying to understand what was happening.

"…_Is it her time of the month or something? This is ridiculous!"_

A couple of the girls gasped quietly when their coach's high heels suddenly stopped echoing and the auditorium became frighteningly silent.

The young man's comment echoed in her head, the only sound she heard other than her own unsteady breathing. None of these kids were her friends, so none of them could have known the truth regarding her medical problems, and none of them could comprehend just how hurtful that comment was to her personally. Even before her surgery, she had always truly despised the unreasonable assumption that if a woman was ever upset it must have been caused by PMS, as though she couldn't have feelings and a mind of her own. Now that she could no longer have a period, she was particularly sensitive about it.

Shelby had been mad when she had called this meeting and she held truly hateful thoughts toward some of the students she had long considered rich brats, especially when some, like Jesse St. James, returned her stare defiantly. But it was that narrow-minded comment uttered by one of those spoiled shitheads that really set her off.

"Who said that?" Shelby asked, her hushed voice menacing. None of the 26 teenagers made a sound and she felt her anger swell as she forcefully repeated, "Who said that?" When no one answered her, she treaded heavily forward and bellowed, "Chase Williams! Stand up, now!"

The sophomore boy was on his feet in no time at all and despite the fact that he was usually an attention hog, he didn't seem to enjoy being the center of the group's attention for once. His paling skin contrasted greatly beneath his messy russet hair as he stared guiltily at his furious coach.

"I asked as a courtesy," Shelby said to him, her dark eyebrows drawn together in indignation. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the remote for the spotlight and turned it on, and though the 25,000 watt bulb was angled feet away, the entire group was suddenly blinded. "I am your vocal teacher. I was able to recognize your voice the moment you opened your mouth. Please go stand under the light."

"But I don't have any sunscreen on," Chase said, his tone laced with a hint of satisfaction as though it had occurred to him that this excuse would acquit him. Unfortunately for him, she was done tolerating her glee clubbers' antics.

"Get over there _now_!" Shelby shouted, her powerful voice reverberating in the empty theatre, and as she stared fiercely at him he scurried away to do as she asked. Perhaps he realized he would be better off under the hot spot than under her heated glare, she thought with slight pride as her dark gaze flashed back to the startled group. "We can now thank Chase for helping me introduce a new policy that will exist for the remainder of the school year. Starting tomorrow I will be carrying stickers in the shape of stars with me; the next time someone says or does something just as stupid, sexist, insensitive and/or downright disrespectful as Chase will get a sticker on his or her forehead and time under the light to get a little color. That way the next time any of you decide you want to act cooler than you are you won't have to open your mouth at all, because everyone in school can take one look at you and see the star you think you are. Is this understood?"

She took their silence as affirmation. "Now, I know many of you are genuinely wondering what we are doing here this evening. Earlier today, some of your fellow students went over to McKinley High School and threw eggs at the lead singer of their glee club."

She stared at Jesse then, ignoring the incredulous whispering that erupted from his classmates or the silent looks his accomplices sent to one another. His handsome face was a mask of indifference and she wished he at least had the decency to look remorseful. Shelby had no idea when he had become so selfish or when his earnestness stopped and the lies began since he had offered to help her. At that moment, with his usually charming face cast in dramatic shadows from the stage light, he seemed like a stranger to her. But he wasn't, and she did not forget that fact.

She turned the small remote in her hand, her mind lost for a moment as she thought about Rachel. A memory surfaced, one of Rachel in a pretty red dress with a surprising expression akin to happiness or even adoration on her pretty face. Shelby's hand was extended and she had touched the girl's perfect, soft skin of her cheek as crinkles appeared around Rachel's warm brown eyes. Suddenly the memory came crashing down as she imagined egg yolks dripping off of that skin and those eyes widened in dismay, and it faded away into the sight of the individuals who had done that very thing to her little girl.

Shelby lifted the remote and the room darkened again as she switched off the spotlight. She turned her head and stared angrily at Chase Williams, who was swaying slightly, clearly woozy from his short time under the hot light.

"Get some water then sit back down." He did as she demanded and as he walked past the others she thought about the few students who were accountable for the embarrassing prank upon Rachel. Her voice was tight as she did her best to remain calm and collected. "In the past I've found it amusing how overconfident seniors are, how superior they think they are even compared to those who have already accomplished so much more with their lives simply because they've made it through most of high school. It seems that the ones among us think they are better than me and the reputation of our club based on their behavior this past week. I didn't care when you all went to McKinley for your little intimidation game, if only because you got permission by school officials to be there, but I _did_ have a problem when a few of you vandalized their choir room. And just like the assault that occurred today, I'm certain that the people who did that were members of our senior class and a couple of their junior followers."

"That's bull! Prove it!" Elliot Parsons yelled from the back of the group.

"Yeah, prove it," Giselle de la Rosa said from Jesse's side, her obnoxious attitude causing a sly smile to appear across her face. Shelby released a shuddering, furious breath as Giselle raised an eyebrow challengingly. This bitch didn't realize who she was taunting.

"I don't have to prove _anything_!" she snapped at them, taking two long strides toward the clustered upperclassmen so she could see their faces clearer. She was pleased when they recoiled slightly at the shrunken distance between them but only glared more severely. "But if I wanted to, all I have to do is check the school records to see which of you idiots checked out of last period early. You were able to get away with toilet-papering their classroom because I've been too busy trying to clean up this mess you've made between our schools. It hasn't escaped my notice that you like to take advantage of my defensiveness; you know that I don't tolerate any bullshit." Her hands clenched at her sides as her voice dropped to a low growl. "But you really screwed up this afternoon—the moment that you targeted my daughter, you targeted me. And that was a mistake."

"Look, it wasn't 'cause she was your daughter!" Bradley Baker blurted out. Shelby straightened up and crossed her arms in front of her at this and watched Brad grimace as Elliot slugged him. He just rubbed his arm and persisted with his confession. "Their club slashed our tires so we just wanted to get back at them."

"You know that I've already dealt with the two boys who did that. They'll be working off the debt for the next _six months _at the very _least_! Rachel had nothing to do with it!"

"But she's their lead!"

"And from what we heard she needed to be knocked off her pedestal," Giselle said with a haughty shrug.

"Yeah, and it's not like you even talk to her anyway, right?" Hilary Gerhardt interjected, her mouth open slightly as she chewed her gum and her light eyes staring up at her coach with a curious, dumb look on her face.

"Why don't you keep giving me excuses until you can find _one_ that makes _any_ of this acceptable!"

Clearly none of them could, as she well knew. Her eyes flashed to Jesse's expression of nonchalance but she continued to address the upperclassmen, her emotion about the situation leaking out with her words. "What you've done today was more than just a harmless prank. You egged a vegan, and I'm not so dim as to assume that you haven't been informed of that from someone among your group. That means that practical joke of yours has the potential to do more than just bring down her spirit, it could cause lasting psychological consequences. Did this occur to none of you? Do you not care?"

Shelby was so disappointed in these students it was beyond words. She had given up so much for them over the years, the seniors in particular. Four years she had spent trying to teach and support them, giving them countless opportunities, and providing them a base on which to build a better future than what she had. And this was how they thanked her.

"Since winning is _obviously_ so important to you, you're going to do it fair and square with hard work and dedication, not bullying, which is why I made a phone call this afternoon," Shelby said, her voice returning to its normal sharpness. "For nearly 150% of his normal price, Dakota Stanley has agreed to choreograph one last number for us before Regionals." Many of the students groaned and one girl let out a loud wail of despair. "It seems Andrea already realizes what that means— as we've done whenever we've had the honor of Mr. Stanley's assistance, for the next three weeks we'll be in this auditorium from 2:30 to midnight with his supervision and all of his critiques. As a special bonus, he is also willing to give up his Saturdays for us until the competition. During that time you'll be rehearsing what I imagine will be one of our most complicated and intricate numbers yet, not just physically but vocally as well, and you will not complain lest you want to risk getting burned under the spot. For the next month you will live, eat, and breathe Vocal Adrenaline more than you ever have before, and those who had nothing to do with any of this immature act of cruelty have plenty of opportunity to thank the few that were responsible.

"As for you," she spat, stepping forward and roughly pulling Jesse up by his jacket sleeve, satisfactorily shocking the impassiveness right off of his handsome face. She kept her grip tight on the leather as she watched genuine emotions flash rapidly by, an uncommon sight from the boy who apparently lived his life method acting. She chose to address that first. "You lied to me. You told me you didn't want anything to happen to her, yet in one move you managed to take both of our trust and stab us in the back with it. And for what? Acceptance back into the club? Popularity?"

If not for the hand she had on his arm, she wouldn't have noticed Jesse wilt slightly at her words. She wanted to ask him why their opinion of him mattered; part of his arrogance as a senior stemmed from the fact that in less than two months he would be graduating and be free of this place and the people in it. After graduation he would pack up and move away to Los Angeles for school, separating himself further from his peers. How had he managed to fall prey to pressure from his friends? Had the transition to McKinley then back again been that difficult for him socially? Or was the aspiring star in him so desperate for mass appreciation that he was willing to sacrifice real relationships for it?

Shelby thought about the dilated, blue eyes in front of her and she wondered how they had managed to watch a scene of brutality against a girl he claimed to care for. She couldn't comprehend how they could stare into Rachel's trusting eyes as he participated in the sick game he and his friends had cooked up to dishearten her. She didn't understand how he could have looked away, leaving her all alone, dripping with egg yolk in the parking lot of her school.

She released her grip, letting him stumble backwards. "You're getting what you want, Jess. You will be the lead for this next number, but understand this: If you miss a single note or a single step – if you falter _at all_ – I will stop everything and everyone will take it again from the top until you get it right."

"Come on, Coach! We didn't do anything! Why do we have to be his whipping boy?" asked Cody Worrall, one of the freshmen.

"We are a team. The wellbeing of the group is dependent on each individual within it and because of that you must be responsible for one another. If you can't accept that – if _any _of you have a problem with my management – the door is that way," Shelby told them, extending an arm toward one of the dozen exits in the auditorium. "If you leave, however, your time in Vocal Adrenaline will be irrefutably over. Any letters of recommendation I've written for you will be retracted. Any gifts to the club, including your cars, will need to be returned to Carmel immediately. So if you don't like my judgment, take a moment to decide what is more important to you: your pride or your commitment to this generous school."

With this, she was done. Shelby walked away from them, disappearing into the shadows so she could settle her raging, racing emotions without their notice. Wrapping her arms around herself, she wished there was more she could have done for Rachel. Despite the fact that Dakota Stanley wasn't an unfamiliar presence in this auditorium, the students held very, very strong feelings of hatred for him and his conduct. Personally, Shelby didn't like him either as a human being but he was a much more effective choreographer than she was and he reliably followed through with his boastful assurances. Shelby had hoped that inviting him to spend nearly 60 hours a week with her kids would teach them a lesson as well as contain them for the remainder of the year on this stage where they could do no more harm. It was unfortunate for her that she would also be stuck here, tolerating Dakota's obnoxiousness, the countless complaints of her grating students and their even more intolerable parents.

Part of her was more miserable than she had ever been before. Not only was her personal life an absolute, empty mess, but she no longer felt the passion for Glee that had served as a distraction from that for the last few years. Part of her even felt disdain for the students she had once truly cared for. Shelby was beginning to realize that she needed a change from this; perhaps it was time to hang up her show-choir hat and find something else that would give her life more meaning than coaching an extra-curricular activity for a bunch of over-indulged, unappreciative teenagers.

She looked over her shoulder and was not surprised to see every member of the club still seated on the stage floor. They were smart enough to know how advantageous being part of this excelling glee club was to their futures and they wouldn't risk their chance at getting out of this dead-end town. For years she had promised her students that if they worked hard in Vocal Adrenaline they would have limitless opportunities in their future and she meant that. Despite her anger, in the end this so-called "punishment" was simply another opportunity for them. With her vocal and musical arrangements and Dakota's choreography, they _would _make it to Nationals. But it was not going to be handed to them on a silver platter, served alongside the crushed willpowers of their humble competitors. She would make sure their feet bled and their voices were destroyed from overexertion before that happened again.

Shelby turned her head so her hair blocked the view of the kids from her peripheral, still ill from the sight of many of them, and said in a low voice, "Go home and ready yourself for hell, because tomorrow afternoon Dakota Stanley and I will be here waiting for you." It wasn't said in a hostile way, but judging by the students' silence as they exited the building they were unnerved all the same.

Once the sound of footsteps faded from her perception, Shelby let the weariness and weakness she had been fighting engulf her, and she wrapped her arms around herself tighter as she began shutting down. She brought a hand to her brow, more aware than ever of the headache that had been building for the last few hours. Days like today, she wanted nothing more than to have someone to go home to and to take comfort from, but she would deal with her longing for love and her solitude just as she always had. This was just another day.

Shelby jumped and spun with shock when she felt a hand on her shoulder, her heart racing at the sudden realization that she wasn't alone. When she saw who it was, the pulsing anger she had been controlling the whole evening rushed back into her like a dust storm over a stagnant desert wasteland. She was embarrassed and furious that he once again caught her at a vulnerable moment. "Go home, Jesse."

"Shelby, just listen to me."

"I'm not interested in anything you have to say," she said to him, ignoring the shameful façade he was evidently putting on for her. Being alone by herself seemed to be a more desirable option than being alone with him, so without another word she made for the door. She nearly made it to the end of the stage when she heard him call out in that smug voice he was capable of, "Just go ahead and walk out, Shelby. We both know how good you are at that."

She froze and felt like the world was shrinking around them. The pain from his vicious comment hit her square in the gut as many of the feelings she had felt in leaving Rachel leaked through her insides and began eating at her like acid. Spinning crossly, her voice carried through the auditorium as she snapped, "Stop fucking with me, Jess!"

He held his head up high as he spoke next. "I took an egg and broke it right on her head."

Shelby felt her features wash over with agony and her mind go blank in response to his bluntness. Reading him, she knew he wasn't bragging or attempting to provoke her, but he was hurting her all the same. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because…" he began, slowly approaching her across the stage, his shoes quiet against the wood. "Because I need you to see that I know I've made a mistake."

She bristled at this, a soft scoff escaping her lips. "I don't have time for your games, Mr. St. James. Good night."

"Shelby, stop! I'm serious!"

"Tell me why I should believe you."

"Look, before I left on Spring Break, Rachel did something that completely humiliated me," Jesse said, and Shelby felt herself straining to remain still and quiet, to hear him through. He gestured loftily, saying, "She didn't mean to of course, she's just a silly, needy girl. But part of me was glad when I had the opportunity to return the favor." He exhaled moodily, sticking his hands into his denim-pant pockets, and Shelby furrowed her brow at him. "But I didn't feel any better about it, because while her need for attention caused her to inadvertently hurt me, mine made me purposefully malicious. My hypocrisy wasn't so glaring until you pointed it out. You've always understood me better than anyone."

"Always" wasn't the appropriate word anymore, especially as she wondered if she had ever really understood him. After all, she had been so certain he was a good kid that she had chosen to entrust him with her deepest secret and with the most important thing in her life. Shelby thought about the young man who first wanted to help her, who was willing to go so far as to change schools because she had asked him to. She had only been inches from him when he told her that he was beginning to have feelings for the daughter she had not yet met, and how could she have believed him to be anything but sincere when he was using his free time running through torrential rain to update her about the delicate mission she had assigned to him? But the inconsistency between his words and his actions left her mystified. She had known Jesse since he was 14 years old and she would never have imagined him to possess the cruelty he had used on Rachel that afternoon at the expense of someone who was had always had faith in him. Clearly it was possible to be very wrong about a person. It frustrated her to become conscious of the fact that she had no idea what was reality and what was fiction with Jesse anymore. Part of her wanted to believe that he was being truthful to her, but that was miniscule compared to the part that was repulsed by him.

"Kid, I don't know you at all," she informed him, concealing her injured dignity with an air of apathy.

He pretended to be unfazed by this, but he tensed and his gaze shifted, giving him away. Had the situation been different she might have felt bad for him; after all, she knew his home life and his aloof, uncaring parents were hardly better than hers had been growing up. He was the man on campus and on this stage but he was next to nothing at home.

"You've always been there for me, pushing me to reach beyond my potential," he continued, despite her harsh comment. "And the only time you've ever asked for anything in return all I did was continue to look out for my best interests."

"You've done me a favor, Jess," Shelby said scathingly, her focus on smoothing the sleeves of her shirt rather than on him. "Maybe now I'll remember that I can't depend on anyone but myself. I should thank you."

"I'm sorry," he said, his well-trained voice communicating remorse. He certainly looked pitiful, but he was a good actor and she wouldn't let herself ignore that. "I've never really had anyone be disappointed in me before. I don't know what to do."

"Respect is earned," Shelby told him coldly. She would later wonder if he was ever taught this. Despite his parents' inattention, he had been given everything he could ever have wanted in his life, perhaps as compensation for the things that Shelby knew a child like Jesse really needed but wasn't offered, like continual love and support. "For the next three weeks you have all of your friends plus every member of the band relying on you not to screw up. My advice to you is to not disappoint _them_."

She walked away from him then, leaving him on the stage on which he thrived.

For the two afternoons after that, she would watch the perspiring members of her club work hard on their cover of "Bohemian Rhapsody" and know that it she would never believe that it was punishment enough. But at the very end of the week, during a period when she should have been watching her students suffer on the complicated number she had devised, she finally found some peace. It was a surprising source, to be sure, particularly considering that it took place on a completely different stage.

"Thank you for coming," Rachel had said with confidence and poise as she stared boldly down at the seated members of Vocal Adrenaline in front of her. "After your brazen escalation of our growing dispute, which we were willing to put to rest, we decided the only way to truly funkify you is to show you the one thing we know you can't do. So enjoy."

And as Rachel slid on her hat and joined her teammates behind the psychedelic screen while Parliament's Give Up the Funk began pulsing through the speakers, Shelby knew things would be okay. For the first time, she was comforted that Rachel didn't and wouldn't need her. She was glad her students would be put in their place— the final, surprise strike from Rachel and her glee club reminding them that they shouldn't underestimate anyone or overestimate themselves.

But it would be for a while yet that Shelby would hide in that dark corner of McKinley's auditorium and watch her daughter stand up to the people that egged her while appearing completely unruffled. After Shelby had left Jesse by himself and without her forgiveness, she needed to shut down and lock up Carmel's huge, impressive drama building, part of the many responsibilities she had as Vocal Adrenaline's director. It wouldn't be until close to 10 o'clock at night that she pulled into her driveway, nearly six hours after she had originally come home expecting an evening of comfort.

If not for a feeling of déjà vu as she walked toward her front door, she wouldn't have peered up at the house to the east of her. Through the blinds of his large living-room window, Philip Norlington's eyes followed her progress from her car, perhaps trying to see if she brought home the daughter she had earlier claimed to have. She hated to disappoint him, but it was just a natural part of her life that she was alone. He hastily closed the blinds when he caught her staring back and she sighed, wondering if things would be hostile between them from now on or if she could add him to the list of people who made habits of evasion out of fear. She hoped it would be the latter even though it was a sad thought.

Earlier in the day, when her biggest problem she had was avoiding her annoying neighbor, she had planned on walking into her house and changing into some loose-fitting jeans, tennis shoes and some worn t-shirt or other. But when she finally did enter her residence and stripped out of her warm work clothes to her underwear, she didn't even bother putting anything else on, for what did it matter—who did she have to offend? And instead of blissfully browsing the extensive collection at Milano's Music, she watched a young girl's MySpace videos from the laptop she brought into her bedroom and sipped at a glass of wine she hoped would take the edge off from her trying day. With each swallow of the dark-red liquid, she thought about the call she had gotten from Will Schuester, the news of Rachel's assault, her talk with Ephraim Berry and her confrontation with the apparently unappreciative people she had given up the last few years of her life to help. Even after she placed the empty wine glass next to the computer on her bedside table, she felt awful inside, the alcohol predictably useless in easing her misery.

Maybe Ephraim was right, Shelby mused, sinking further under her covers as she watched Rachel's attempt at a solo version of her glee club's cover of Somebody to Love. Maybe she had too much love in her. She longed for an outlet, but not just something like a pet cat like Ephraim had suggested. She wanted something more; something real. Something, she thought as she watched Rachel perform in her bedroom that she had never been in, that she wouldn't have to share with anyone.

Shelby hugged a pillow to her chest and closed her eyes for a while, listening to the next video begin to play. Rachel's beautiful voice, despite the crap computer speakers from which it came, enveloped her but it didn't satisfactorily fill the hole inside of her heart. It never had, and as she remembered the girl's expression the day she said goodbye to her, she knew it never would. It wouldn't be for another three days until she would stop blaming herself for everything, feeling concern and regret over what Jesse and his friends had done to Rachel, and wanting to take care of the little girl she had housed in her womb 16 years before. Until that time, Rachel's voice would continue to resound in her mind, giving her advice she didn't know how to yet follow:

"_Smile though your heart is aching, smile even though it's breaking. When there are clouds in the sky you'll get by. If you smile through your pain and sorrow, smile and maybe tomorrow you'll see the sun shining through for you. Light up your face with gladness, hide every trace of sadness, although a tear may be ever so near. That's the time you must keep on trying. Smile, what's the use of crying? You'll find that life is still worthwhile if you just smile."_

Before long she felt the affect of the wine; her exhausted body began sinking further into her plush bedding and her heavy lids started blurring her view of Rachel's MySpace. She fell asleep as the video ran, as though the song sung by her daughter was a lullaby meant to soothe away her relentless stress.

After all, for Shelby Corcoran, it really had been one hell of a week.

* * *

**Another story completed. I hope you all liked it, even if it ended differently from what you had in mind. She was pissed but composed at her kids and didn't really give Jesse a piece of her mind like we all would have liked, but somehow the events of Funk needed to be linked to Journey. Still, I believe that they all now know better than to mess with Shelby. Bad idea. I decided a while ago that if Shelby Corcoran and Chuck Norris were to fight, he'd run away screaming out of intimidation. What do you think about that?**


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